


Proud

by Felixbug



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Anal Sex, Floor Sex, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 06:09:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4008796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Felixbug/pseuds/Felixbug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Hawke leaned forward and ran his tongue up the underside of Anders’ cock, groaning low in his throat at the taste of Anders’ skin. He looked up and met Anders’ gaze, seeing the way his hand tightened around the creased parchment and the way his lips parted in a sharp gasp as Hawke smirked, then let his tongue dart out to swipe over the head.</i>
  <br/>
  <i>“Keep reading,” he said. “Or I’ll stop.”</i>
</p><p>Hawke is <i>really</i> into mage rights. Anders reads him his manifesto, and Hawke shows him how proud he is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Proud

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yolkinthejump](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yolkinthejump/gifts).



> Anything that sucks about the manifesto can be blamed on Anders not having quite finished it yet, and the fact that I wrote this in less than 24 hours to release it on day one of #AndersPositive ;) This isn't part of the series, but was definitely written with Breaking the Silence Hawke, Anders, and Justice in mind so if you like their relationship dynamic *vague gestures* there's more. Enjoy!

Hawke stood in the doorway of the clinic, watching as Anders finished his conversation. He was speaking to a woman Hawke didn’t recognise – short, dark-haired and full-figured – but he was sharp enough to notice the walking stick she didn’t lean on and the cautious, hunted look in her eyes. A mage – an apostate – no doubt part of the mage underground. She shook Anders’ hand briefly, a tense set to her jaw and a quick nod and then headed out, slipping past Hawke with her eyes down.

“Hope I didn’t interrupt anything,” Hawke said as he entered.

“No.” Anders met him at the door, then closed and barred it. “If it was anything important I’d have locked up first.”

“So I’m important then?” Hawke raised an eyebrow and grabbed Anders around the waist, pulling him in to nuzzle at his jawline. Anders chuckled, playfully pushing Hawke away – but Hawke heard the little gasp he tried to stifle as Hawke’s lips brushed his neck.

“I need to tidy up here before we head home – twenty minutes at most. I assumed you’d rather be shut in than shut out?”

“Mm, definitely.”

Anders headed into the back room and Hawke followed. It was rare to see the clinic empty, especially during the day, but Anders had been working non-stop for days and some combination of Justice’s attempts to drive his host less hard and Hawke’s cajoling had convinced him to take an afternoon off. Hawke had expected the back room to look as it usually did when Anders had spent nights at the clinic – strewn with discarded clothing, the bedsheets crumpled. The bed, however, looked untouched – and Hawke realised the clothes Anders was wearing were the same ones he’d been in when he last left the estate.

“Have you slept at all?”

“Yes – enough, at least.”

“If I ask Justice, will he say the same?”

“He might be more – precise,” Anders admitted. “I’ve been busy, love. I’ve probably had the right amount of sleep more or less just – not all in one go. An hour here and there.”

“You’ve had that many patients?”

“Not many at night, no.” Anders turned to his desk and Hawke realised it was mounded with papers – many covered in scratched out words, but others looking much neater. Anders was often secretive about his work on his manifesto, claiming it wasn’t ready to be seen – but from what Hawke could spot in the dim light, it didn’t look far off.

“You’ve been writing all night?”

“When I haven’t been busy with…” Anders bit his lip. “I’d rather not involve you.”

“I’m involved,” Hawke said, and his voice sounded harsher than he’d meant. He winced and softened his tone. “You live with me – you think if you got caught working with them I wouldn’t be investigated? Really? I spent my first year in the city harbouring an apostate, and now I live with another, it’s not as if I’ve got a clean record. And that’s not even mentioning how mixed up I was in Alrik’s death. Let me _help._ ”

“I can’t,” Anders said, and Hawke saw his fists clench on the desk. “You’re right – I’ve put you at risk.”

“I’ve put myself at risk.” Hawke put his hand on his shoulder, and was glad to feel Anders relax back into the touch, not flinch away. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. I – I’m not a mage, and I know I can’t ever really understand. But you’re not the only one who’s angry – who wants things to change.”

“I’m not very good at this, am I?” Anders laughed and ran his fingers through his hair. “Spending days down here, not telling you anything – I just don’t even know where to start. I’m so used to people not wanting to hear any of this – and I get so scared of what could happen to you if I try – I don’t know…”

“Start small,” Hawke suggested. He joined Anders at the writing desk and helped him gather his papers into a pile. “You could let me read one of these?”

“I…” Anders licked his lips nervously. “I’ve always wanted to. But when it’s ready – you don’t care about these scribblings, love – once it’s finished…”

“I _care_.” Hawke leaned in to kiss the back of Anders’ neck – and that _definitely_ got a reaction, a sharp catch in his breath and Anders arched slightly. Hawke smiled against his skin and pulled back. “I’ve always admired this about you.” He slipped an arm around Anders’ waist and picked up a sheet of parchment, drawing it and Anders’ slim body back against himself. “First time I met you, you told me you were going to try to break a mage out of the Gallows – and you wanted help, but you were going to do it either way and – honestly I don’t think I’ve ever admired someone so much.” Hawke chuckled and tucked his chin onto Anders’ shoulder. “Of course, I also thought you must be _out of your mind_ to risk it but, you know, in an inspiring way.”

“Alright, alright.” Anders took the page from Hawke’s hand and turned, still pulled in close. There were twin spots of colour blooming in his cheeks and he bit his lip, but didn’t stop Hawke taking the page from his hand. “It’s not finished,” he said. “Very rough around the edges – and my spelling is – well, I don’t think much of it is right. I’m working on it and…”

“Ssh,” Hawke said, drawing him in for a brief, chaste kiss. “You wrote it, it’s going to be perfect.”

“But…”

“ _Perfect._ ”

Hawke reluctantly released Anders and sat cross-legged on the bed and began reading, squinting in the low light to make out the handwriting. Anders’ painstakingly neat script was occasionally interrupted by a sudden jagged scrawl, rough pen-strokes that scuffed the surface of the parchment. Hawke smiled fondly, tracing the outline of a letter with his finger.

“Justice helps.”

“Justice _tries_ to help,” Anders corrected.

“You don’t like his contributions?” Hawke lifted the page up to the light. “The oppression of mages stems from the fears of mortals, too narrow-minded to understand the world that they inhabit…”

“Oh Maker, it’s _that_ draft,” Anders sighed, sitting down next to him. “I’ve reworded it since then – Justice has good ideas but he’s a little heavy-handed – here.” He snatched up another handful of pages from the desk. “The oppression of mages stems from the fears of _men_ , not the will of the Maker.”

“Much better,” Hawke said. He caught a brief flash of blue in Anders’ eyes and leaned in to kiss his cheek. “Sorry, Justice. You’ve both done good work on this – how long have you been working on it now?”

“I’m – honestly not sure,” said Anders. “Months, maybe? I don’t always keep track of time that well – Justice doesn’t really understand it and I’ve never been particularly good at routine…”

“I’d noticed.” Hawke took Anders’ hand, running his thumb over the ink-stained skin. “This is incredible, love. I know it’s not finished – and if you want help with – spelling, or phrasing, or anything I can – I don’t know, you probably wouldn’t trust me not to fill it full of terrible jokes, but…”

“I trust you,” Anders said, and Hawke felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise as a faint blue glow pulsed across Anders’ skin. “Thank you – I need this to be perfect. Justice – he helps, but he’s not sure this is the way. Everything he’s seen of mortal memories tells him the only way to change the world is violence.” Anders shuddered. “He’s not patient – he understands why I am, but it’s not easy for him. I – I have to believe that isn’t what it takes. Not always. If I can get these arguments right – I’ll make copies, hand them out discreetly – try to get a copy to the Grand Cleric, try to make her see reason. If things can get better in Kirkwall they can get better anywhere.”

Hawke reached out to tuck Anders’ hair behind his ear, suddenly overwhelmed with pride and love, and unable to find the words to show it. Anders had lost so much, still lived with the constant fear of losing what little he had left – he worked himself to exhaustion, stretched between his patients and the mage underground, struggling with internal conflict with Justice that Hawke couldn’t begin to understand. With everything he had endured, and everything he was prepared to risk, Anders was still hoping for peace, not vengeance.

 “Read it to me?”

Anders cleared his throat and began to read, but Hawke interrupted him to encourage him off the bed. Anders laughed as Hawke fussed around him, straightening his back and squaring his shoulders under Hawke’s guiding hands.

“I want to hear you properly,” Hawke said, skimming his hands over Anders’ waist. “You should be proud of this. This right here – it’s the start of something big.”

“I hope so.”

“You don’t need to hope.” Hawke kissed his neck, running his hand up Anders’ spine to straighten the nervous slouch he felt forming. “There isn’t any doubt. I’ve always known you were the type of man who’d change the world.”

There was a flash of blue under Hawke’s lips, a tingling hum from Anders’ skin, and Hawke felt rather than heard the fiercely proud growl that formed in Anders' – Justice’s – chest. Justice faded back, and Anders remained standing tall. Hawke couldn’t resist flattening his chest against his back, smirking as he felt Anders’ ass grind against him and heard his sharp inhale as he felt Hawke’s erection.

“Are you sure you want me to be _reading_ right now?” Anders asked.

“You’re not getting out of it that easily,” Hawke said with a grin. “Go on, let me hear you.”

“Andraste suffered at the hands of magisters.” Anders’ voice was halting at first, but grew in strength quickly, raw and passionate. “Thus, she feared the influence of magic. But if the Maker blamed magic for the magisters' actions in the Black City, why would he still – Andraste’s tits, Garrett, what are you _doing_?”

“Do you want me to stop?” Hawke had moved around in front of him and was well on the way to down on his knees, one already grinding into the hard-packed dirt, his hand lightly skimming up Anders’ thigh.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Good, keep reading. I’m listening – I’ll just be down here. On my knees.” He began to unlace Anders’ trousers, trying to hide his own eagerness. This was about appreciating Anders – but _Maker_ , he couldn’t deny how much this side of him turned him on. The place where Anders and Justice overlapped, righteous fury and single-minded determination – it was everything he admired, respected, _loved._

“But if the Maker blamed magic for the – ah – for the magisters’ actions in the Black City, why would he – he – _fuck,_ Garrett.”

Hawke grinned up at him, his hand curled lightly around Anders’ half hard cock. He was rewarded by a rough, breathless edge to Anders’ voice as he continued.

“…still gift us with it? The oppression of mages stems from the fears of men, not the will of…”

Hawke leaned forward and ran his tongue up the underside of Anders’ cock, groaning low in his throat at the taste of Anders’ skin. He looked up and met Anders’ gaze, seeing the way his hand tightened around the creased parchment and the way his lips parted in a sharp gasp as Hawke smirked, then let his tongue dart out to swipe over the head.

“Keep reading,” he said. “Or I’ll stop.”

“Don’t you dare,” Anders breathed. “From the fears of men, not the will of the Maker. The Circles are abusive – oh _yes, Maker, yes –_ and unjust. Any one of us could – could bring a mage child into the world. What parent would willingly – support a system that could enslave and torture their child? In every Circle…” he broke off, his free hand dropping abruptly to grab a fistful of Hawke’s hair, tugging firmly on it as Hawke gave another long, teasing lick along his shaft. “ _Please_ \- stop teasing. Or I’ll stop reading.”

“Make me,” Hawke said, enjoying the combination of begging and demanding far too much to give in easily. With a rough growl that wasn’t _entirely_ Anders’ voice, Anders dragged him forward and thrust his cock between his lips.

“In every Circle, unprepared mages are – forced into tests for which they – nngh – for which they cannot prepare.” Anders’ breaths were uneven and ragged, but he became more forceful as he spoke. Hawke groaned around his cock, sliding his lips up and down the stiff length and pressing up firmly with his tongue to stroke every sensitive spot. “In _every_ Circle, mages are sentenced to a lifetime cut off from – from all emotion, for the slightest offense. The threat of tranquility is Chantry sanctioned torture. No Circle permits us – please, _yes_ , Garrett, like that – permits us families…”

Hawke could feel Anders’ pleasure building – his hips jerked and his cock pulsed against his tongue. The drag of his hand in Hawke’s hair was growing more insistent, nails digging into Hawke’s scalp as he pulled him closer, encouraging Hawke to take his cock into his throat and swallow around him. Hawke quickened his pace, his lips gliding from base to tip, tracing patterns with his tongue and moaning against the sensitive flesh. The sound of Anders’ voice had him achingly hard, but all of his focus was on Anders’ needs, the salty taste building on his tongue and the barely held back moan as Anders continued.

“…freedom, or respect. The Chantry teaches us to despise ourselves – creating an – ah – atmosphere of fear and pain that – oh please, sweet fucking Maker that’s…” Hawke closed his eyes and groaned, gripping Anders’ shaking thighs as he felt the dropped parchment skim past his cheek and Anders’ second hand drop to curl around the back of his head. Anders’ stuttering thrusts made him gag but he didn’t care, eyes watering as he swallowed him down to the base, sucked hard, and Anders came down his throat with a loud, shaken cry.

“I – well, I don’t know what I did to deserve that, but it was…” Anders shuddered, fingers tightening in Hawke’s hair again. Hawke hadn’t stopped – didn’t even slow down. Anders was still fully hard and experience told Hawke that there was a good chance he’d stay that way. “Oh fuck – Garrett…” his voice cracked into a sharp, needy moan as Hawke flickered his tongue against the sensitive, twitching head of Anders’ cock.

Hawke closed his eyes and lost himself in the smooth thrusts of Anders’ cock between his lips. The sharp taste of him still clung to his tongue, and he could feel Anders’ pulse in the rigid length. He slid his hands to the back of Anders’ thighs – they were trembling alarmingly, and his hands dropped from Hawke’s hair to claw at his shoulders, unsteady as Hawke’s lips and tongue worked the oversensitive flesh and gave Anders more pleasure than he could bear. The manifesto lay forgotten on the ground, and Anders was long past coherent speech or even thought, whimpers breaking into gasps of Hawke’s name.

Hawke was relentless, fingers digging into Anders’ thighs as muscles jumped against his palm and Anders’ breaths began to shake. Anders’ weight dug into his shoulders and Hawke tensed his arms, ready to support him as Anders groaned, thrust, and Hawke pulled back to capture the thick spurts across his tongue.

“Fuck – oh fuck, yes…” Anders shuddered and slumped, and Hawke caught him and lowered him gently to his knees. His hands clenched in Hawke’s shirt, and both men were breathing hard as Anders lunged forward to kiss him hard, desperately, panting against his lips as eagerly as the first time. Hawke groaned and kissed back, chasing every catch of his breath, every bitten-off moan, meeting Anders’ tongue with his as they dragged each other closer. Anders’ thigh slipped between his legs and Hawke rocked against it – his arousal hadn’t gone unnoticed but until he felt the firm pressure against his cock he hadn’t realised quite how urgent his need was. He growled against Anders’ lips, sliding his hands up to grip his ass and pull him closer, sucking hard on his lower lip until Anders moaned.

“You stopped reading,” Hawke murmured, trailing his lips along Anders’ stubbled jaw.

“I think you got the – nngh – general idea.”

Hawke chuckled, soothing the bite he’d left with a gentle swipe of his tongue.

“Lie back,” he said. “And pick up the pages – I want to hear more.”

Hawke tugged Anders’ trousers down to his ankles, leaving them tangled around his boots as he ducked between his legs and rested Anders’ knees on his shoulders. He gripped Anders’ ass firmly, fingers digging into pale skin and leaving reddening marks, then ducked his head to trail teasing kisses up the underside of his softening cock.

“Warden stamina failing you already, love?”

“Good thing I have other natural advantages to fall back on.” Anders grinned at him and curled his hand around his own cock, and Hawke felt the magical hum hovering around his fingers. He watched Anders’ face as the magic took effect – he was flushed, forehead beaded with sweat and his lower lip caught between his teeth. Anders groaned softly, and the moment he withdrew his hand Hawke replaced it with his lips and tongue, eagerly taking the newly hard length into his mouth and relishing the sharp, urgent jerk of Anders’ hips.

“The Chantry teaches us – nngh, _fuck_ – to despise ourselves, creating an – an atmosphere of fear and pain that…” Anders bucked against his mouth with a hiss, writhing against the ground as his heels dug into Hawke’s muscular back. “That kills more mages than it controls. This is _not_ the only – the only alternative to the rise of a second Tevinter Imperium – only in freedom can we – can we – Garret _please…”_

His back arched and Hawke winced as he felt the heels of his boots dig sharply into his spine, dragging him closer as he sped up, lips stretched around Anders’ girth, tongue teasing him into breathy incoherence. Hawke reached up for Anders’ belt, fumbling through pouches until glass vials tumbled to the ground. He grabbed one at random and held it up to inspect the contents.

“Nn…” Anders’ manifesto fell to the ground again as he reached out and plucked the vial from Hawke’s hands. “For burns – freezing – bad idea.”

Hawke pulled back, enjoying Anders’ frustrated whine as his cock was left untouched.

“What’s this one?” he asked, picking up another vial.

“For warts.” Anders cringed. “That’d hurt. A lot. Here.” He sorted through the vials and handed one to Hawke. “That’s just oil.”

“Mm, and what’s the medical purpose of this?” he teased, running his tongue over the head of Anders’ cock to make him shudder and arch again.

“Preventing – fuck, that’s good – injuries when the patient’s _ridiculous_ lover decides to fuck him _on the floor_ at work.”

“You prescribe a lot of that?” Hawke chuckled, flicking the stopper out with his thumb.

“I think – I’m going to have to keep the whole supply for myself.”

“Good idea.”

Hawke wrapped his lips around Anders’ cock again, letting Anders take control with a hand in his hair and sharp thrusts of his hips. He slicked his fingers and groped blindly for Anders’ entrance, circling it briefly to make him squirm and beg before slowly sliding one finger into him.

“Yes,” Anders hissed, cock pumping into Hawke’s mouth, thighs trembling on his shoulders. “More, please, _please_ …”

Hawke had no interest in rushing – he looked up and met Anders’ eyes with his, sliding off his cock slowly, dragging his lips over the tip. Anders tried to drag him back down with a needy moan, grinding down against Hawke’s finger. Hawke loved him like this – panting, flushed and desperate, barely able to think of anything except Hawke’s mouth, his hands, his cock.

“I still want to hear the rest,” he said, hearing the roughened edge to his own voice. As much as he enjoyed drawing this out, he needed this as much as Anders. He slid a second finger into him and groaned as Anders writhed, his long fingers tightening in Hawke’s hair and his free hand clenching against the ground. “I’m so proud of you, love. Both of you.”

“Don’t – ask me to read right now,” Anders gasped. “I can’t – I can barely _think_ – please, I need…”

“I know.” Hawke curled his fingers inside him and Anders bit back a scream, teeth digging into his lip as Hawke rocked his hand and hit that sensitive spot over and over. “Is Justice watching?”

“More than watching.” Anders said, and Hawke caught the faint pulse of blue through his veins.

“Think he’d be up to reading a few lines?” Hawke ran his tongue up the full length of Anders’ cock, slipping in a third finger as he reached the tip. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

“You – oh fuck, Garrett – you’d better,” Anders said. There was a sudden flash of blue and the pressure against Hawke’s scalp intensified, forcing him down onto Anders’ – Justice’s – cock before he could catch his breath. He groaned eagerly, fighting against his gag reflex as Justice thrust into his throat with a snarl.

“This is not the only alternative to the rise of a second Tevinter Imperium,” he growled. His voice was ragged, breath catching on every thrust of his rigid cock between Hawke’s lips and every curl of Hawke’s fingers within him. “Only in freedom can we truly serve man, and it is fear that inspires mages to aspire to more.” His second hand joined the first – he was reciting from memory, the pages discarded around them as he fucked Hawke’s mouth. Hawke was breathless, chest tightening and eyes watering but he didn’t care – he relaxed into Justice’s grip, let him use him, cock painfully hard and throbbing between his legs at the sudden shift in dominance.

“It is fear that creates abominations,” he panted. “It is fear that leads to blood magic. We do not ask for power – we ask for lives free of terror and abuse.” Justice tugged sharply at Hawke’s hair, pulling him off his cock up his body until they were face to face, with Justice’s hips raised off the ground as his thighs were forced back. He pulled Hawke’s lips to his and kissed him fiercely, all teeth and tongue, muffling Hawke’s gasping breaths and leaving his lips bruised.

Hawke withdrew his fingers, shifting his grip to clench his hand on Justice’s hip as he lined himself up, pouring the remainder of the oil over his cock and gasping at the sudden wetness. He groaned into Justice’s mouth, skin crawling with the ever-present hum of the Fade, and his tongue tingling with the metallic taste that clung to Justice’s lips. He was shaking with urgent need – Anders’ and Justice’s words ringing in his ears, pride and love so intense his chest ached, and liquid heat pooling at the base of his cock as he thrust forward into slick, tight warmth.

“Beautiful,” Hawke panted, pulling back to look down into Justice’s face. His eyes glowed intensely but the cracks that lined his skin were faint, and there was a little of Anders in the soft parting of his lips and the dual-voiced echo of his groan. “Can you both – is this – I want you to feel everything.”

“We will,” Justice said, hands sliding down to wrap around Hawke’s back. “Anders is present.”

“Tell me how it ends?” Hawke asked, ducking his head to nip at Justice’s throat as he began to thrust slowly.

“Forgotten,” Justice gasped against his ear, fingers digging into Hawke’s back. “Words the Chantry will not hear…” he groaned, thighs tightening around Hawke’s waist. “Parchment burned to ashes in the cleansing fires to come.”

“Pessimist.”

“Truthful,” Justice corrected. “It is all I know how to be.”

“I hope you’re wrong,” Hawke said, biting his ear until Justice groaned and arched against him, then quickening his thrusts.

“I have been, in the past.” Justice’s hands balled into fists in Hawke’s shirt, pulling him close to bite at his shoulder though the fabric. “I was wrong – about you.”

From there, words failed them both. Justice’s low moans became sharp, urgent growls as his grip on Hawke tightened, and Hawke’s own groans were muffled against his neck as he gave up on holding back and let himself grip harder, thrust faster. They rocked together in tangled clothing, sweat glistening in the light from Justice’s skin, two voices that were occasionally three mingling as they groaned, panted, broken pleas and gasps of each other’s names as Hawke lost himself in the writhing, straining body below him.

“We will…” Justice managed, breath catching as Hawke’s hand slipped between their bodies to curl around his cock. “We will live in slavery no longer. We will not…” he moaned, parted lips damp against Hawke’s neck and eyelashes fluttering against his cheek. “We will not submit to a system that – that devalues our lives. The mages _will_ be free.”

“Perfect,” Hawke groaned, trailing kisses along Justice’s jaw. A few more quick, firm strokes, and Justice’s voice cracked, shaky gasps against Hawke’s skin and desperate bucks of his hips as Hawke continued to plunge into him. Hawke felt Justice’s cock twitch in his hand, wetness spilling over his fingers and Justice cried out sharply, face pressed against Hawke’s neck as his orgasm overwhelmed him and left him trembling.

A few moments more and Hawke followed him over the edge, collapsing against Justice’s chest with a last unsteady thrust, white-hot pleasure awakening every nerve and making dark spots dance across his vision. Justice’s hand was in his hair – soothing now, not rough – low, encouraging moans against his ear as Hawke’s cock pulsed inside him.

“Justice – Anders…” he trailed off with a shaky gasp, and slid his hands up Justice’s sides to pull him closer. “ _Maker,_ I love you.”

“Your constant references to this _Maker_ of yours aside, you are a very pleasant mortal.” Hawke looked up in mock offense, and caught the slight awkward twist of Justice’s lips before he concealed it. “I love you, also,” Justice said.

“Did you just _joke_?”

“Possibly. Almost.” Justice pushed Hawke back gently. “We are on the ground. This is less than ideal – I do not understand, there is a bed…”

Hawke decided against trying to explain spontaneity, and kissed him firmly instead. They were a tangle of limbs and loose clothing, surrounded by scattered parchment and drenched in sweat, and Hawke was sure both of them would be sore later from the hard packed earth beneath them. But right now, feeling Justice and Anders shift in the body pressed against him, shared lips parting against his, he could not imagine anywhere he would rather be.


End file.
